


Twilight Gathering In

by genarti



Series: Wings of the Day [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canonical bilingual puns, Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Eriador, Gen, Motherhood, Pastiche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 21:46:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13773228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genarti/pseuds/genarti
Summary: A woman stood, one hand upon an age-darkened fence-post, gazing to the West.





	Twilight Gathering In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saraste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/gifts).



**Eriador, T.A. 3006**

A woman stood, one hand upon an age-darkened fence-post, gazing to the West. The Sun was sinking low into a sky of orange flame and billowing primrose. The colour-drenched sky seemed pinned in place by the jagged dark peaks of the Ered Luin. Behind her to the East, the Moon slipped upwards, a faded ghost against the purple folds of sky; but every moment he grew in strength. The first stars of evening had begun to appear in his train. Before her, all was bright colour, not yet dimming.

Slanting lances of sunlight glimmered from the bright net that bound back her hair, and struck gleaming tongues of flame from the tiny gems scattered through it. Her hair had once been black as a crow’s wing, and her face fresh and rosy. But time touches all Mortal Men, even those whose years are long. Gilraen the Fair had seen nine decades and more. Her hair shone as well under that bright sky, silver intermingled with the dark; and the lines of her face were deep and sorrowing. Yet her sea-grey eyes remained bright. She had seen much and lost much; but she stood still tall and slim and straight, and her old hand rested steady upon the chestnut fence-post.

But even dark times are never wholly without joy, and still less mere twilight. Sorrow and weariness had shadowed her fair brow, and weighed heavy on her heart; yet in truth Gilraen was not unhappy. She had spent the day weaving with the other women of Eriador. The fine brown wool unspooling from the shuttle, the fibres locking together, the slam of the batten, the clatter of heddles, the quiet satisfaction as inch by inch the cloth for a Dúnadan’s warm cloak formed under her hands; and around her the noise and work of other women, the low conversation, the laughter; at their feet, children playing. Her son had once played so, as a round and solemn toddler. Later he had been a youth in Imladris, far from these looms; but he had learned to sing the same Elvish laments that other young voices had lifted to sing today, while the women worked and sang too. Now he was a man grown, and far from her. But he remained her joy and pride; and there were other children at her feet, and other youths.

Above her came suddenly the beating of wings. Gilraen stood motionless and alert, and over her head came with heavy rowing wingbeats a great crow, one of the _crebain_ of Dunland far to the south-east. It landed on another fence-post, rattled its wings into place, and peered at her. Gilraen gazed coolly back.

When at length she spoke, her voice was low and even. “You’re far from home, _craban_. Do you come spying? Have you lent those bright eyes to another?”

The bird made no reply. Gilraen had expected none.

“It matters not,” she said. “There is nothing to learn here from me. What a carrion-bird can see is no secret, and what secrets may be are safe from your eyes.” Then all at once she smiled; and if her features were lined with age and grief, her smile was still bright and lovely, and like any gem all the more beautiful for its rarity. “Tell your master, if master you have, that what hope I have I have given to the world; and hope will outlast me. And my heart tells me that hope will triumph at last.”

For the blood of the kings of Númenór ran true in Gilraen the Fair; and those of that ancient lineage may at times see far and clear.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for the great prompts! I hope you enjoyed the results, because I certainly had a fantastic time writing.


End file.
